Grief
by NinjaDevil2000
Summary: George mourns the loss of his brother more than ever. What will happen when the emotions break free and nothing anyone can do can help him? Rated T for loss and significant emotions.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I never have. It'd be amazing if I did, but sadly, I don't think I'll ever have that kind of luck. **

**Author's Note: Please enjoy. This story was super fun and heartbreaking to write. I cried during the ending. Go grab tissues, come back, and read and review. Your reviews mean the world to me so please please do that. **

**Thank you to my lovely beta - Sophie / 3cheersforidiots for reading this for me. She's a phenomenal writer so go check her out.**

**Also, thank you to my absolute bestest friend, Liz! She's amazing and read this story for me as well. Thank you so much Liz! Go check out all her stories. She's really excellent. **

**Written for Round 10 of the IWSC - Quidditch**

**School and Year: Mahoutokoro, Year 2**

**Theme: Seeking - A character working alone to find something of great value**

**Main Prompt: [Pairing] George Weasley and Hermione Granger**

**Additional Prompts: [Character] Lee Jordan**

**Word Count: 3832**

**Alright, that's all you peeps need to know, I think. Please enjoy, read, review, favorite, follow, all that fun stuff. Catch you on the flip side.**

_xxxxx_

George shivered as he sat hunched over in his bed, his head resting on his knees, silent tears dripping down onto the duvet. Another nightmare. The same one. The memory of a wall crumbling, crushing his best friend and brother underneath. George shuddered as the image flashed through his mind again. Normally, the nightmares weren't this frequent, but he knew why he was having them more often nowadays. In three days' time, it would be April 1st. His birthday. Fred's birthday. He would've been turning twenty-three years old, but no. Fred was gone. And so was a part of George.

Hermione stirred beside him and her arm drifted over to the pillow where George's head should've been resting. When she felt the absence of her husband's form, however, she awoke instantly, grabbing her wand from under her pillow as many years of war had taught her to do.

_"Lumos!"_ she exclaimed. She breathed an audible sigh of relief when she saw George sitting there, but then her face changed to concern upon seeing George's quivering form.

"Sorry, love," George mumbled. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Hermione admonished gently. "Another one?" she asked knowingly.

George nodded. "I hate this time of year," he said. "We used to spend the springtime out in the back garden or on the Hogwarts grounds, coming up with new ideas or pranks or jokes." George's voice broke. "I don't know what to do anymore. I know it's weird, but instead of getting easier with time, his death is just getting harder to deal with and – and I don't know why." He clasped his hands around his head, his sobs more prominent now, as his body shook. "I don't know what to do," he continued. "I – I never even got to say goodbye or – or to tell him how much I loved him."

"I know, honey," Hermione whispered softly, her voice thick with emotion. "I miss him too. We all do."

"I can't do this anymore, Herms," George said, looking at her with bloodshot eyes. "I can't pretend like everything's okay anymore. And – and I love you, but I just – I just feel like I'm lost. I don't know what to do anymore." George looked down and placed his hand on Hermione's slightly bulging abdomen. "Even this little thing can't help me," George whispered. "How am I supposed to be a good father if I can't even be happy with myself?" He looked back at Hermione, eyes full of tears.

_xxxxx_

Two days later, the day before Fred's birthday, George and Hermione had lunch with their friends, Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet. What with Lee being there, there were many jokes spoken, meaning that George had to plaster a smile on his face and force a few laughs. He tried to sound genuine, but the others all seemed to see through the charade.

Before Lee and Alicia left, the former took George's arm, leading him a little ways away from where Hermione and Alicia were talking.

"George," Lee asked, "are you okay?"

George, who had been looking down at the ground idly, raised his head instantly. "Of course not," he spat, his emotions getting the better of him. "Tomorrow is my birthday. Don't you know what that means?"

"I –" Lee began, but a look of comprehension dawned on his face, quickly replaced by a look of sympathy. "Oh, George, I'm – I'm so sorry."

"I don't want your apology," George said, turning away from his friend. "Just please – please go."

"Listen, George," Lee began, "if you need anything, anything at all, just remember, Alicia and I are here for you. Don't hesitate to ask, okay?"

George, biting his tongue to stop himself from snapping at Lee again, merely nodded. Lee grabbed his friend's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze before turning back to Alicia.

"George?" Hermione said, her voice startling George out of his reverie. He shook himself and looked around, realizing that Alicia and Lee had left. "What's the matter? You alright?"

"Stop asking that!" George yelled, shrugging off Hermione's hand. "Of course I'm not bloody well all right! My brother is dead!" Hermione flinched, and George felt the tiniest pang of guilt before shrugging it away. "Tomorrow is his birthday! He'd be twenty-three years old! He might be married! Maybe he'd have children! But no! He's dead! And I'm not all right! I never will be!" George locked eyes with Hermione for another moment before sprinting towards the front door and leaving without a word.

A split second later, he was standing in the small flat built above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, the shop he and Fred had started. The one they had started when their lives were full of happiness and laughter. The one he hadn't set foot in for nearly three years.

The rest of the afternoon found George sitting on the floor, sifting through piles of old products, receipts, boxes, and other random things that had been upstairs for who knew how long. He didn't dare traverse downstairs, for he had no idea how he would react to the memories that had flowed through the store. So, he immersed himself in the small memories, hoping that they might affect him less.

One thing that dealt him a harder blow than he thought it would was an old shirt of Fred's that had scorch marks on it. George thought back to the day it had been burned. The pair of them had been experimenting with fire-breath inducing candy. George had volunteered to be the first test subject, which resulted in Fred's shirt getting caught on fire. Thankfully, Fred hadn't been seriously hurt because George put the shirt out quickly, but he had had a few small scars as a reminder of that day. George had felt really bad about it, but Fred just shrugged it off, saying that scars were a part of the job. George smiled at the memory and blinked away his tears.

Moving over slightly, George grabbed the nearest cardboard box and opened it. His breath caught in his chest and his vision, if possible, grew even blurrier at the sight of the topmost contents.

Two crisp, lurid green jackets made of scaly dragon skin were folded neatly in the box. George remembered fondly when he and Fred had bought them. They had gone to Romania to visit their brother, Charlie, as well as to get away from the stress of the looming war. Charlie had welcomed them happily and given them a tour of the reservation. They had spent a week there, watching their older brother in action and having fun learning about all the dragons and training regimens.

At the end of the week, Fred and George hadn't really wanted to return home, but upon hearing about the battle at the Ministry of Magic and Sirius's death, they decided it would be best. Before leaving, however, Fred and George had visited a dragon shop. They had been overwhelmed, for it carried everything dragon related one could imagine: jackets, boots, and gloves made out of dragon skin; incredible teeth and talons from the dragons; shirts, socks, and scarves with dragon patterns all over them.

Even though the merchandise was extremely expensive, they figured that, since their shop was raking in gold, they might as well treat themselves. They each ended up buying a jacket, a pair of boots, as well as a tooth and talon each. And, thinking about Harry, who had just lost Sirius, they had bought him a shirt with an incredible moving design of a Hungarian Horntail.

Withdrawing himself from the past, George looked down at the jackets. With shaking hands, he pulled the top jacket out of the box and held it out in front of him, admiring its quality just as he had done five years ago. _Had it really been only five years?_ _It seemed more like twenty._ Looking at the jacket, he noticed the name embroidered on the collar. _George Weasley._ So this one was his.

Denying the wish for his eyes to remain dry, he pulled Fred's jacket out, held it up to his face and inhaled. The smell of his brother instantly wafted over him, bringing the inevitable moisture to his face and the lump back to his throat. George's lip quivered for a moment as his grip on the jacket tightened before a wall seemingly exploded from within his body, releasing everything he had restrained for three years out into the open. He shuddered from head to toe, the occasional moan of despair escaping his lips as tears, too many to count, poured from his aching eyes. The eerie silence of the building closed in around him, pressing more and more emotion out of him as he remembered all the laughter and smiles he had shared with his other half. He no longer knew what to do with his life. The shop had been closed ever since the end of the war and even Hermione and their precious unborn child couldn't usher him out of this sickening depression.

A few hours later, the sky outside was beginning to darken and George, exhausted by the sheer weight of sadness and loss, collapsed onto the nearby mattress, releasing dust into the air. A few minutes later, he was asleep, leftover tears trickling down onto the mattress, his hands still clutching Fred's jacket.

_xxxxx_

_ George stood in the middle of a forest, trees stretching as far as the eye could see, thick branches and leaves blocking out every ray of sunlight. But somehow, even though he couldn't see hardly anything, he knew where he was. The Forbidden Forest. Somewhere he had traversed many times with Freddie by his side, occasionally accompanied by Lee or another one of their fellow pranksters._

_ George looked around, squinting through the darkness, desperately trying to make out the odd shapes that were fast approaching. The shapes were drawing closer, faster, but for some reason, George wasn't afraid. He somehow knew that they, whatever they were, wouldn't hurt him._

_ The shapes were soon upon him, and George looked at them intently, recognizing the forms they were taking. His mother. His father. His brothers. His sisters. His wife. All the people that were suffering because of him, because of what he couldn't face. _

George sat up, his face clammy and sticky from the tears he had cried the previous night. His mind raced, thinking fast about what he had to do. And, in a split second, the realization hit him. He knew what he had to do. He knew what he had to find. Now, if only he knew how.

Later that morning, George found himself walking through the heart of the Ministry of Magic. Not wanting to attract any attention, he kept his head down and walked down the halls of the Ministry in silence. He was grateful when he reached the Auror department without anybody stopping him.

"Harry?" George spoke immediately upon entering Harry's office. Harry had apparently been deep in thought, for he promptly leapt out of his chair, grabbed his wand, and aimed it at George. Having grown used to this sort of behavior over the past three years, George didn't even flinch at the motion. He just watched as Harry sighed in relief, dropped his wand back onto his desk, and smiled at him.

"Hey, George. Sorry about that," Harry said.

"No problem," George replied dully, easing himself onto the sofa across from Harry's desk.

"What's the ma–" Harry broke off mid-sentence, realizing what would be bothering George today. "Oh, gosh, I'm – I'm sorry, George. I feel so stupid. I'm really so–"

"Shut up, Harry," George interrupted. "You didn't do anything. It's fine."

Harry looked ready to apologize again, but apparently decided against it.

Of all his family and friends, Harry was the one George most related to. In such a short period of time, only seventeen years, Harry had lost so many. His parents and his godfather, mentors and friends. George didn't know what it was like to have felt all that loss, but he figured his feeling of only living with half a soul was pretty damn close.

"I need you to tell me something," George said as Harry filed away his paperwork and sat next to him.

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously.

"The Resurrection Stone," George stated quietly. "Do – do you have any idea about where it is? Where you might've dropped it?"

Harry paled and opened his mouth to reply, but George hurried on shakily before he could utter anything.

"Harry," he began, standing up and starting to pace around the office. "I can't do this anymore. I feel like I'm going crazy. People keep telling me that it'll get easier with time, but it doesn't! It just gets worse! I want him back so bad! It should've been me! I should've been the one to die! Sometimes I want to ki–"

"George!" Harry yelled, silencing his brother-in-law. He stood up and approached George, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him slightly. George noticed that Harry's eyes were shining with unshed tears. "First of all, you have got to stop beating yourself up. Stop saying that it should've been you! If it had been you, if Fred had lived, I'd bet you anything that Fred and I would be having the exact same conversation about you! And second," he continued, "I know what it's like. You feel like you're slowly dying, like your life is just fading away into nothingness." George nodded. Harry sighed and released George's arms, raking a hand through his hair. "Look, I don't know where the Stone is. If I did, I'd tell you, I really would."

"You would?" George asked.

"Yeah, it might've be good for you to – to see Fred again," Harry replied. "I – I know it helped me when I saw my parents and Sirius before I – well –" Harry trailed off, but George knew what he meant. Harry's death was something that was never spoken of, for it was very close to the hearts of their family, even though he did come back unharmed.

"Anyways, I'm sorry," Harry resumed, "but I don't have any idea where it might be."

_xxxxx_

George stood straight-backed, his complexion pale, his face pointing towards the thick forest and it's fear-inducing darkness. Behind him sat the glorious castle of Hogwarts, the place he had called home for so many years. Ahead of him, well, what was ahead of him was dangerous.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, George thought back to an hour earlier when he had talked to Professor McGonagall about the situation.

He had flooed to her office and somewhat told her about his feelings and his reasonings for wanting to delve into the forest. She had been kind and considerate but cautious at the same time. George had assured her that he would be careful.

After gazing at him with a curious look, Professor McGonagall had reluctantly given him permission to scour the forest floors.

Now, facing the looming, danger-filled void, George almost wished she hadn't given him permission.

_"Lumos,"_ he muttered, wandering a few steps closer before crouching down and fingering the dirt and leaves.

And so, with his lit wand held tight between his teeth, he began to crawl. He knew that the chances of finding the Stone were rare, even rarer when he factored in the oncoming darkness, but George had no choice. He had to do this before . . . before someone got hurt. Before he hurt himself.

The first hour passed by fairly quietly. George heard a few noises, but nothing too near or disturbing. His eyes scoured the earth, every inch of it, willing the stone to appear in front of him. His hands hurt from all the sharp twigs and roots that protruded from the ground, his eyes were growing tired from the strain of squinting through the darkness, and his skin was crawling because of all the large beetles and bugs that scampered over the earth.

As he continued to crawl, his back and knees aching, George heard something. Very close. George stood up with a grimace and withdrew his wand from his mouth, pointing it at the group of trees from which the sound had come.

Taking a shaky step forward, George flicked his eyes over every inch of tree he saw. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first, but soon, the faint outline of a creature was apparent.

It seemed to be some kind of boar and it was nosing around in the dirt, chewing on something. Sensing another's presence, the boar scampered away through the trees, much more agile than George thought possible for such a hefty animal.

Curiosity getting the better of him, George crept closer to the area where the boar had been nosing. Throwing the beam of his wand down onto the upturned earth, George couldn't see anything unusual at first. But then, something glinted. Something small, something different.

George knelt, and he felt his heart flutter. A small stone lay in the grass, triangular in shape, a long crack running down the center. George recognized it immediately. The Resurrection Stone. He had found it. Well, technically a boar had found it but that was beside the point.

George picked it up and looked down at the grubby little stone. It looked so simple and innocent, as though it didn't have any inkling about the power it possessed. Taking a deep breath, he turned it over three times and waited. Nothing happened, at least not that he noticed, for he was still looking at the stone in his hands.

"Hi, Georgie," a soft voice spoke. George's head lifted a fraction, hardly believing what he had just heard. No, it couldn't be. Slowly, George raised his head. At first, he saw a pair of legs, then a torso, then a face. A face so similar to his own, George might've believed he was looking at his reflection. But no, he knew what he saw. It was Fred. He was there. George sprung to his feet, a wide smile gleaming on his face, tears of euphoria sliding from his eyes.

"Freddie! You're here!" he yelled exuberantly, bounding forward and trying to engulf his brother in a hug. Instead of closing around the warm flesh of his twin, though, George's arms merely closed around air. Losing his balance from the momentum of his unanswered hug, George staggered, downcast. Fred's faded image turned to him, smiling sadly at him.

"Yes, George," Fred replied. "I am here . . . somewhat."

"I missed you so much," George croaked, collapsing down onto the ground with a crunch as he realized that Fred wasn't truly there. Fred's pale form knelt before him, the twigs and leaves under his knees making no noise as he sunk onto the damp ground.

"I know," Fred replied. "I've missed you too. More than you know."

"What – what if I –" George began, but Fred hushed him with a shake of the head.

"No, Georgie. I know what you're about to ask. It's possible, but it's not right." He continued to smile sadly. "After all, the world still needs one of the genius Weasley twins, doesn't it?"

"What's it like up there?" George asked quietly, raising his head and looking into his brother's eyes.

Fred sighed. "It's . . . different. I've met Harry's parents. Sirius and Remus and Tonks are here. Sirius's wife is here. Yeah, Sirius was married," Fred added, laughing at the surprised look on George's face at his last remark. "He was married to Marlene McKinnon. They had been married only a few weeks before she was killed. Anyways, they're together and happy again. Even Pettigrew is here. He really wasn't always such a prat; he was a good person before Voldy got to him. Uncle Fabian and Gideon are here too. It's kinda nice."

"God, Freddie, I miss you so much. My heart hurts all the time. I can't do this anymore. I just want to be with you again."

"I know, Georgie. I want to be with you too, but not yet. Trust me, I'll be the happiest man al– well – dead, when we meet again. It's not the same to prank without you. James and Sirius still prank people, and sometimes I'll join in, but it's not the same without you. It never will be. But it's just not the right time yet. You understand?"

George's tears fell silently, and his whole body ached. He nodded mutely. "You – you weren't hurt or anything, were you?" he asked.

"No," Fred replied softly. "There wasn't any pain. It was just like falling asleep."

"I'll never forget you," George said, swallowing. "I'll make sure you live on. I'll make sure everybody knows your name."

"You'd better," Fred teased. "I always told you that I was the better-looking one." George smiled. "I want you to do something for me," Fred continued, and his voice took on a more serious tone. "I want you to reopen the shop."

George's face fell. "I don't know if I can do that, Freddie. I can barely look at anything of yours without bawling."

"Please," Fred said. "The world needs a cheering up after all the disasters it's been through. More importantly, though, our family needs cheering up. You should've seen how distraught Hermione and Harry and Lee were after talking to you yesterday and the day before. And you need to cheer up," Fred continued. "You're the joy of this family. Nobody can be happy if the co-king of jokes isn't happy." Fred flashed George a cheeky grin.

"I – I'll think about it," George said with a nod.

"I have to go, Georgie," Fred said suddenly, standing up, a look of sadness replacing his grin.

"What?" George gasped, standing up as well. "No, no, you can't! Freddie, please!"

"I'm sorry, George, but the longer I stay, the harder it'll be for us to leave each other again."

"Couldn't you stay? Just a little bit longer?" George begged, his voice choking up. "Please, Freddie, don't go again."

"Oh, Georgie, I never left," Fred beseeched. "I've always been here with you. You just had to find me again."

"Can – can I hug you?" George asked thickly. "P-Please, just one last t-time."

"Oh, come here," Fred said, and, to George's immense relief and surprise, he hugged him. The brothers' arms enclosed around each other, warming in each other's presence. Both cried tears, but they both felt lighter than they had in years. George could've stood there for the rest of his life, standing within the embrace of his favorite person in the world. His soulmate, his brother, his twin.

But all too quickly, the hug ended and right before his eyes, Fred's form smiled one last time before flickering away. George sank to the ground once again, empty, but feeling like he might – just might – be okay again.


End file.
